"Oh I hate scenery!" the girl sighed.
"Elle est superbe," said Madame Carré. "You must put those pieces on the stage: how will you do it?"
"Oh we know how to get up a play in London, Madame Carré"—Mr. Dashwood was all geniality. "They put money on it, you know."
"On it? But what do they put in it? Who'll interpret them? Who'll manage a style like that—the style of which the rhapsodies she has just repeated are a specimen? Whom have you got that one has ever heard of?"
"Oh you'll hear of a good deal when once she gets started," Dashwood cheerfully contended.
Madame Carré looked at him a moment; then, "I feel that you'll become very bad," she said to Miriam. "I'm glad I shan't see it."
"People will do things for me—I'll make them," the girl declared. "I'll stir them up so that they'll have ideas."
"What people, pray?"
"Ah terrible woman!" Peter theatrically groaned.
"We translate your pieces—there will be plenty of parts," Basil Dashwood said.